Growing Pains
by Stelena-Beautiful
Summary: All about Cory and Topanga's tween daughter, Emily Angela. This was written in 2009 - before "Girl Meets World" ever saw the light of day so I feel it will be very different than the upcoming show. Happy reading!


**SUMMARY: **Cory and Topanga Matthews have a great life together so why do they still act like brats sometimes, especially in front of their own daughter, thirteen-year-old, Emily-Angela? Find out in Emily's own words in this fic as she tries to figure out boys, hormones and her own parents!

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** I started writing this in 2009, long before the advent of 'Girl Meets World' so let's just say; it's a lot different than the coming show!

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**Chapter 1**

"Emily Angela, get up! It's almost time for the bus to arrive to take you to school," my mom calls me, giving me a good shake, basically ripping me away from the best dream ever where Nick Jonas and I are crowned king and queen of the Fall Ball.

"Mom!" I moan. "I was having the best dream!"

"So was I. I dreamt I had an obedient daughter who loved to go to school and most of all, loved doing everything her mom tells her to." Mom sniffs like she smells something bad. "And then I woke up."

"Jeez, mom, cranky much?" I ask, as I reluctantly kick off the covers with my pink-sock clad feet.

"I'm not cranky," she insists.

"Oh please. You're like, hormonal. I bet you're going through menopause."

She shakes her head. "When I was your age, I didn't even know what menopause was and here you are throwing the word around like its nothing."

"Mom, you're kidding, you've got to be kidding," I say. "Did you grow up in a time warp or something? I've known what that is since the fifth grade."

Mom sighs and lightly grabs my arm, pulling me forward. "I was sheltered as a kid, what can I say?" she says. "Now come on. Up and at-'Em."

"I swear you sound like grandma more and more every day," I say as I grab my favorite blossom-scented shampoo off the dresser and start for the bathroom.

"And I swear you sound more lippy every day," she says and then pauses, rolling her eyes. "'Lippy'? I am channeling my mother. Time to wash my mind out with lye. Now hurry up," she says, lightly swatting my butt as she walks past me.

I sigh and walk into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.

XoXoXo

A good thirty or so minutes later, I emerge from the bathroom in my favorite white bath towel and go down the hall to my room. I comb out my long brown hair and study myself in the mirror. I am getting boobs - finally, thank god! At least I think so. Like all the guys in my grade are giving the girls names of US states for the size of their chest. I have yet to be given a state and I can't decide if it's worse to not get named at all (cause that means you are not important) or to be called a state like Iowa where there are like, no mountains at all. My best friend Bobbie got named Colorado and she is on cloud nine.

There's a knock at the door and I sigh. "What?" I ask.

"Muffin, the bus will be here in about twenty minutes. You'd better hurry," My dad says. I hate it when he calls me "Muffin" but what can I do? I have asked him to stop it but he won't. He says it's because humiliating pet names are a part of childhood hazing - whatever that means - and I need to get used to it.

"Did mom send you on this mission?" I ask through the door.

"Doesn't she always?" He asks with a sigh and I sigh too. They mostly seem to do each other's errands these days but don't seem to really get along or communicate like my teachers say parents should. Mom is going through menopause at thirty-two and dad is having a midlife crisis, at least I think so. How else to explain why they are so distant with each other these days? Usually they fight more often than not and I miss the days (sorta) when they would kiss in front of me and call each other "schnookums" and "sugar" even though it would creep me the heck out. I mean, imagine your parents doing that in front of your friends. They used to do that all the time but not so much anymore.

"I'll be down in five minutes, dad," I say. "Though you know I wish I didn't have to ride the bus. It's so uncool."

"Hey, I rode the bus. Its character building," he says.

"Yeah I am surprised you are not going to tell me about the time you had to walk five miles to school without shoes on, in the dead of winter."

He chuckles softly. "You don't believe that anymore though. Especially since your grandmother told you it never happened."

"So did you have to ride the bus when you were in junior high?"

"Yep," he says and gives my door a light rap. "Now, hurry."

I hear his footsteps move away and I think, beauty cannot be rushed. Especially my own. I am not pretty enough in my opinion though of course mom and dad say differently. (But that's a parent's job right?) I am too skinny, my boobs are not big enough, my hair is wiry and frizzy instead of curly or straight, and I have really big feet. Like really big ones! It's so embarrassing to be thirteen and wearing size 9's.

I take my time putting on blue jeans and a white tank top. Then I put on some pink lipstick and hope Dad doesn't notice. He hates for me to wear makeup; says I should wait till I'm at least sixteen. I ask why and he says "because I was a teenage boy once and I remember what I thought of girls who wore too much makeup." And basically, that's a big "WTF?!" but oh well. Just in case he makes me take it off I'll just put the tube in my pocket and reapply it at school.

I grab my backpack and head down the stairs after putting on some clunky black shoes. Very cute. Very modern, at least I think so.

Right away I hear my mom and dad arguing. They never stop these days it seems. It's the menopause and midlife crisis thing rearing its ugly head, in my oh-so-humble opinion.

"Cory, how many times have I asked you not to put the dishes in the dishwasher until you've rinsed them?" Mom asks. "It leaves them all grimy."

"What's a dishwasher, if not to wash the dishes? Why do they need to be washed twice, Topanga?" Dad asks. "Because you say so?"

"Yes, because I say so."

They start bickering hardcore and I cough as I walk into the kitchen. "Hey!" they both say at the same time, forcing smiles. They don't like me to see them fight but they must forget I'm not deaf and can hear them fighting just as well.

Mom smiles and holds up a bagged lunch. I peek inside. "Banana sandwich, apples, Juicy-Juice, and a pop tart. Lunch of champions, Mom," I say with a roll of my eyes.

"Sorry but you know I have more cases than ever at the office these days," she says. "And if I want to get that promotion, we are all going to have to make sacrifices." She eyes my dad pointedly.

"Hey, I make sacrifices!" he snaps. "I took off from work to raise our daughter. That's a sacrifice." I hiss. He apologizes. Mom just glares at him.

"Yeah, another happy day at the Matthews house," I say and walk towards the door as I hear the bus honking from the driveway.

I let myself out and sigh as I walk towards the bus. For once I think I am happy to be riding in it because then I don't have to deal with more of my parents' nitpicking at each other. And they say teenagers are troubled these days ...


End file.
